


Rebel Target - A Cara Dune Misadventure

by Kiwikink



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Damsels in Distress, Kidnapping, Mandalorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwikink/pseuds/Kiwikink
Summary: Cara Dune discovers hiding out in the outer rim is not enough to escape old enemies...
Relationships: Cara Dune/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Rebel Target - A Cara Dune Misadventure

The sun was setting over Raider's Cove, the small but bustling pirate marketplace located on the tropical outer rim world of Rishi. Built upon a series of small islands, the sanctuary was a collection of platforms and walkways cobbled together over the centuries from native woods, pre-fab building materials and salvage from crashed or abandoned starships. It had never been as popular as other outlaw strongholds, it was too small and isolated to attract major crime syndicates like more populated planets would, but by the same token its remoteness had left it more or less untouched by the Galactic Empire that had ruled the galaxy until its fall just five years ago, and was equally ignored by the New Republic that was rising in the Empire's place. That made Rishi, and Raider's Cove in particular, a good place to disappear to if you wanted to escape from the galaxy at large, a place where your anonymity was all but guaranteed. 

And that was what had brought Cara Dune to the Cove. She was a fit, muscular woman with tanned skin, watchful brown eyes and a mane of messy shoulder length black hair that hung down across the right side of her face. She was dressed in what had become her post-Rebellion uniform, consisting a sleeveless black synth-weave cuirass with a leather high collar and blue metal pauldrons mounted on her shoulders, dark blue pants, worn high boots and set of armor plated gauntlets on each forearm. Because the galaxy was a dangerous place, Cara was armed with a simple blaster pistol that was holstered at her hip, and a vibro-dagger was tucked into her left boot. A black tattoo of the Rebel starbird sat under her left eye, a souvenir of her time in the Rebellion, and a segmented tattoo of service encircled her right biceps. 

Cara was a former rebel shock trooper, having operated behind enemy lines to take down elite imperial military facilities and warlords, but in a post-rebellion galaxy, she had found herself increasingly out of place in the New Republic. She was born to fight, using her skills to protect the oppressed, and was not suited for the bodyguard and diplomatic protection work that now occupied the New Republic military. So she had taken an early retirement and headed for the outer rim to work as a mercenary, taking jobs that would bring her into conflict with any remnant imperial forces that still stalked the edges of the galaxy, but that had put a marker on her head, so much to her own chagrin, she had headed to Rishi to lay low for a while. There was little for her to do there, outside of drinking at the local cantina and unsuccessful staying out of barfights, but it would do for now.

Or so she had hoped. 

Cara had noticed the hooded figure sitting in a dark corner booth of the cantina when she had arrived for her usual afternoon drink. Normally a new face in Raider's Cove was no reason for alarm, people passed through the settlement all the time, but there was something in way the newcomer carried themselves, their poise, the way the hood made their face impossible to see, that put Cara on edge. She felt like she was being watched, despite the stranger's head not moving, and it took all of Cara's will not to walk over and confront them then and there. 

Instead, Cara took her usual stool at the bar, and signaled the barwoman for her usual Corellian ale. Kaili Zyken served the former rebel quickly, flashing what she thought was a suave smile. Kaili was a skinny, suntanned woman with short spikey hair and an unearned confidence that Cara found eye-rolling at times. Her family had been part of Raider's Cover since its inception, and despite her charm deficiencies she tended to have a good lay of the land. 

“Who's the mysterious stranger?” Cara asked Kaili quietly, trying to act casual despite her hackles being raised. 

Kaili took a quick peek and rubbed her pointy chin. “Arrived this morning, evicted a couple of drunks from that booth and took up residence for the day.”

“And you didn't mind them harassing your patrons,” Cara asked sardonically. 

“They just went to another table,” Kaili said, shrugging. “She's not been drinking, but she paid the serving droid a pretty nice fee to be left alone. Downside was she paid in imperial credits, and those things are practically useless since the Empire fell, but I figured I'd keep them anyway as they might gain some value in a few years as a collector's curiosity.”

“Always working the angles, Kaili?” Cara said, taking a drink. So the hooded figure was a female, and paid in imperial credits. Cara was even more suspicious now, but kept her face neutral as she finished her drink. She engaged Kaili in small talk for a bit, mostly to pass time waiting for the hooded figure to do anything, but the woman in the booth barely moved at all. Making her mind up what do, Cara paid Kaili for her drink and stood up, and stared directly at the hooded woman. She then gave a deliberate smirk, then exited the cantina with a confident swagger.

And as Cara had anticipated, the hooded woman stood up from her booth and began to follow her. 

Silently congratulating herself for not just being paranoid, Cara headed down the board-walk toward the suspension bridge that led to upper platforms that housed Raider's Cove's marketplace. The hooded figure followed at the safe distance, keeping Cara's pace but not giving any sign of being on edge. Once Cara reached the upper platform, she weaved her way through the throng of traders and customers, then ducked down into a nearby alleyway. Once she was sure she was out of sight of the hooded woman, she took a running leap at the wall of a nearby hut, grabbing the edge of the roof tiles and pulling herself up with her powerful arms. She then crouched down and waited, seeing if the hooded woman would take the bait.

And indeed the hooded woman did. She headed into the alleyway, and paused, the hood swiveling back and forth as she looked for Cara. Cara could see the woman's shoulders tense beneath the cloak, and then the hooded woman spun on her heel and headed back out into the marketplace. Grinning up in her perch, Cara watched her go, then slid down from the roof and followed the hooded figure from a safe distance. The hunter was now the hunted.

The woman cut through the marketplace down towards the settlement's eastern docks, where several small warehouses looking out over the island's shore. Cara took pride in covertly tailing the woman; someone her size was hard to miss, so it took patience and skill to not be seen. The hooded woman was heading towards one of the warehouses, which were often rented out by newcomers who wanted even less scrutiny than the already lax denizens of Raider's Cove provided. Cara herself had even used one when she had first arrived on Rishi, which also meant she knew the ins and outs of such a building. Cara smiled as the woman disappeared inside, then approached carefully herself, heading around the side to where a simple ladder lead up to the warehouse roof. From there, Cara used a skylight to spy down into the inner workings of the warehouse, to see what the hooded woman was up to. 

Within the warehouse, the hooded woman moved passed stacks of disused cargo containers and a line of four skeletal ASP-7 labour droids to where a portable computer terminal, imperial design naturally, was set up. The hooded woman began to work the controls of the terminal, calling up a small holographic display of the warehouse and its surroundings. Cara could not determine the nature of the terminal from her vantage point, but figured it was either some sort of security scanner or surveillance system. She frowned; did the woman have spy cameras setup around the settlement to look for her? The answer soon came to her.

Cara heard the small, hovering spherical probe droid a split second before it fired, a crackling line of blue energy arcing from a the stun weapon mounted on its shell. Cara had twisted to avoid the blast, but was not quiet fast enough, with the blast grazing her ribs. Thankfully her cuirass absorbed most of the damage, but it was still enough to knock her off balance and topple her onto the skylight, which cracked and then shattered beneath her bulk. Cara landed with a thud onto one of the disused containers below, then rolled off onto the warehouse floor. She did her best to shrug off the impact as she drew her blaster pistol, but the fall had knocked the wind out of her, and it took her a second to realize that the previously inert ASP-7 droids were now charging at her.

Cara went immediately into combat mode, ignoring her aching body to draw a bead on the nearest droid and firing off a quick shot. The droid's rectangular head was blasted from its skeletal body, sparks flying as its trio of companions ignored its fate to rush Cara. The former shock trooper rolled as they grabbed for her, then swung her leg out from a crouching position to sweep the nearest droid of of its feet. A quick shot to its torso ensured it would stay down. Cara then sprang to her feet and booted the next droid in the chest, sending it staggering backwards, then drove her elbow into the faceplate of the last. Cara raised her pistol to fire at the remaining droids-

And was shocked again as the probe droid floated down from the skylight behind her. Cara dropped her blaster and feel to hands and knees, fighting to remain conscious as she fought off the effects of the stun blast. Her body was struggling to obey her commands, but she refused to give up the fight.

“How brave,” mocked a cold, feminine voice. The woman approached the stunned Cara, pulling off her hooded cloak to reveal herself to the fallen rebel. She was a slender blonde woman with an angular face and her hair pulled back into a tight bun, dressed in a tight black synth-leather jumpsuit and a grey padded blast vest, the logo of the now defunct Imperial Intelligence Bureau embossed on the jumpsuit's shoulders. She grinned sadistically at Cara, studying the former rebel with almost clinical glee. “Brave, but foolish. You should have skipped planet once you knew I was on to you, rebel scum. Not that it would have helped, I had surveillance set up there as well and would have caught you before you could flee, but at least that would have at least been a moving target. Instead, you walked straight into my lair, and now you are a prisoner of Athena Traze, the best spy in the Galactic Empire.”

“You may not have noticed,” Cara growled from beneath gritted teeth, “but your great Empire doesn't exist anymore. We destroyed it. Maybe if you were a better spy you might have prevented that.”

Traze's mocking facade dropped for a moment, revealing a rage boiling beneath the surface, but her cool demeanor quickly returned. “We will rebuild,” Traze said. “But in the meantime, I am sure there are a few former Imperial warlords who'd like to get their hands on you. A former shock trooper like you will have made a lot of enemies, so you will fetch a pretty price.”

“So you are just another mercenary like me,” Cara smirked. “So much for your vaunted Imperial pride. And if you think you can keep me down long enough to deliver me, I think you have another thing coming!”

With all of her might, Cara forced her body forward, her large arms reaching for Traze's neck. It was a last gasp, a futile gesture, but Cara was not going down without a fight. But she never reached the imperial agent; a second blast from the probe droid shocked her into full unconsciousness, and her muscular body crashed to the ground.

“Pitiful,” Traze said mockingly, nudging Cara onto her back with her booted toe. “Droids, prepare her for transport. We have a long flight ahead of us.”

The two remaining ASP-7 droids obeyed silently, cuffing the stunned woman's hands before her with a pair of thick imperial-style binders. To ensure Cara remained quiet when she regained consciousness, the ASPs tightly strapped a synth-leather muzzle over Cara's mouth; the gag consisted of a small rubber plug that filled her mouth, with a black oval-shaped panel embossed with the Imperial badge that covered Cara's lips and pressed tightly into her cheeks. With their prisoner properly restrained, they carried Cara over to a small metal crate mounted on a hover sled and lowered her inside. A moment later, the lid was sealed on and the crate was ready for transport.

Athena Traze packed up her equipment and placed on the sled with the boxed-up Cara, then set incendiary charges around the warehouse, timed to go off and burn any evidence she may missed well after she had left the planet. It was a rather dramatic way to cover her tracks, but Traze liked to be thorough. Though the fall of the Empire had sent her out into a hostile universe, Traze had kept up the skills and methods that had made her a star in Imperial Intelligence. But the remnant imperial warlords that rose up on the outer rim were not impressed with her past glories, and wanted to know what Traze could do for them now. Presenting them a bound and gagged Cara Dune would no doubt provide a practical demonstration of her worth.

Donning her hooded cloak again, Traze made her way through Raider's Cove's streets, her probe droid and the ASP-7s following close behind with the hover sled. She wanted to be spacebound before Cara recovered, to be free of this retched hive of scum and villainry. She headed strait to the northern based docks, where her shuttle awaited. It was a converted Jumpmaster 5000, its battered U-shaped hull rendered almost black by the sensor-dampening panels that had been fitted upon it. It was a fast and stealthy craft, perfect for the likes of Traze, and it would soon carry her and her captive far, far away from Rishi's orbit.

After the ASP-7 droids loaded the crate containing the bound and gagged Cara into the Jumpmaster's cargo bay, Traze erased their memories and sent them back to the warehouse. That left her and her probe droid, which she had guard the crate while she prepped the Jumpmaster for take off. After gaining flight clearance from what passed as Rishi's air traffic controllers, Traze took off into the upper atmosphere, leaving the pirate settlement behind.

“And to the victor goes the spoils,” Traze chuckled to herself. She prepared to send out notification of Cara's abduction, to see which of her former imperial allies would be most interested in her. But for that she would need proof of capture, so she grabbed a holo camera and headed out back to the cargo bay to get a scan of Cara before she recovered. Waving away the probe droid, Traze loosening the lid of the crate-

And had the lid booted up into her face.

As the imperial spy fell to the ground, Cara Dune climbed up out of crate, her face red with fury behind the muzzle strapped across her mouth. Before the probe droid could get a bead on her, Cara swung her cuffed hands as hard as she could into the hovering spherical droid, sending it flying up against the wall of the ship. It let out an electronic squeal as it bounced hard off the hull, crashing to the floor with smoke rising from its cracked shell. With the droid neutralized, Cara focused her attention on Traze.

“You rebel scum!” Traze snarled, leaping to her feet and throwing a wide punch at Cara. The former shock trooper parried the blow easily, then trust a big boot into Traze's chest, sending her backwards. Traze quickly recovered, spinning on her heel to try and kick Cara in the face, but Cara was incredible fast and agile for her size, ducking under the kick effortlessly, then tucked into a roll to get behind the blonde spy. She then swung her cuffed hands over Traze's head, wrapping her bound arms around the woman's neck in a chokehold. As Traze struggled to break free, Cara wrapped her thick legs around Traze's waits to cinch in the hold, grunting loudly behind her muzzle as she applied more pressure on the smaller spy's throat, cutting off her airflow. Traze's body began to go limp, the strength sapping from her limbs. 

Cara did her best to smile behind the muzzle that gagged her, surprising the imperial spy by releasing her hold. Traze fell to her hands and knees, gasping for air. She looked up as Cara loomed over her, looking thoroughly intimidating despite her muzzle and cuffs. Cara grumbled something behind the muzzle, then slammed both of her cuffed fists down on Traze, knocking her out cold.

It had not taken long for Cara to find the keys to her binders, though it had been tricky to unlock them by herself. Once her hands were free, she had unbuckled the muzzle and pulled it from her mouth, flexing her jaw to get all the feeling back. It took her a few minutes to decide what to do with Traze, but in the end she decided she'd be more merciful than Traze probably deserved. 

“Well, its been fun,” Cara chuckled to Traze as she loaded the imperial spy in to the Jumpmaster's escape pod. Traze did not respond, mostly because she could not; she had been wrapped from shoulders to ankles in thick cargo straps, causing her slender form to wiggle and squirm like some sort of imperialist worm. Cara had also taken great pleasure in strapping the synth-leather muzzle over Traze's mouth, rendering the spy delightfully silent. Cara smirked and waved good-bye, then jettisoned the pod into Rishi's upper orbit. It would not take too long for someone to pick up the escape pod's locator beacon, but by the time they found Traze, Cara planned to be long gone.

“So long, Raider's Cove,” Cara said as she sat down in the Jumpmaster's pilot seat. She called up the ship's navigational charts, and began searching for a new middle of nowhere for her to lay low in. After cycling through a few planets, Cara settled on a promising location. 

“Sorgan,” Cara mused to herself, studying the planet's details. “Looks like there's no starport, no industrial centers, no population density. Real backwater skug hole. Perfect!" Punching in the co-ordinates into the navigational computer, Cara activated the Jumpmaster's hyperdrive and leaped out of the system. 

Hopefully on Sorgan, things would be a lot less eventful.


End file.
